


Always

by cuckooclover



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aging, F/M, Immortality, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 02:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12289104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuckooclover/pseuds/cuckooclover
Summary: “... Maybe it’s not how long one is remembered that matters, but maybe how much one is loved, how much impact they’ve left on one. And you, ma chérie…” he brushed away the hair and kissed her forehead. “To me, you’re like the sun to a blind man who had learnt to see again.”





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this for a while
> 
> André- Paris

"And… done!" André lifted the paintbrush off of his canvas. "Hey, come over, how about now?"

Céline walked over and viewed the painting. "Hmm, it's lovely!" He sighed. The portrait was accurate, sure, but there was something _missing_.

He sighed. "No, something's still missing. Or not perfect, at least."

"André, it's fine." Paris turned to her. She smiled a soft, reassuring smile. He leaned over, and cupped her face. And then he smiled as well. "Well I'm afraid that your beauty's too exquisite for me to draw, then," he teased. A pink blush bloomed across her cheeks instantly.

"André!" Said person laughed.

"But it's true!" He brushed a few strands of her hair away, intending to kiss her forehead.

A strand of grey hair distracted him.

"... What's wrong…?" Céline asked quietly. Paris backed away.

Céline was 21 when they met. How long ago was that? Time was going too fast.

He studied her features. There were a few other stragglers of grey hair. Spider webs had already began etching into the corner of her eyes.

He sighed.

Will he forget her like the others?

"André? André." He blinked. Céline looked at him with a concerned expression, before it was replaced with realisation.

They shared a silence of understanding. At last, Céline tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

"It's about my age, isn't it?"

"What? No, it…" What use was there to lie? He sighed. "Yes."

Another silence followed.

"Will… you forget about me after I die?" Forget about her? As a regular citizen of France… Yes. Very likely. Too likely. Damn the truth was cruel.

He stroked her hair. "You know the answer. I'm so sorry, but… I will."

Céline looked down. He couldn't stand to see her sad.

"Hang on." He grabbed a pot of white paint and stirred the paintbrush before writing down her name on a shadowy corner.

Céline couldn't help but laugh at André's mock 'solution'.

"Well at least I could remember your name, and remember what you looked like! Feeling better?" He asked. Céline's smile disappeared, and she looked down. That still didn't do anything to answer the question. Paris stood up, and lifted her chin up.

"It still does nothing to have you remember _me_."

He sighed, and sat down next to her."Tis immortality. It's pretty much inevitable. Sad, but true. I couldn't remember something to the end of the world even if I tried. Well, unless you want me to commit suicide-"

"Hey!"

“... Maybe it’s not how long one is remembered that matters, but maybe how much one is loved, how much impact they’ve left on one. And you, ma chérie…” he brushed away the hair and kissed her forehead. “To me, you’re like the sun to a blind man who had learnt to see again.”

And he kissed her lips tenderly.

"But in the meantime, for as long as I remember you, I will always love you from the bottom of my heart. Got that?"

-

-

-

-

-

-

"Who is that?"

Paris looked at the painting. It was a portrait of a fair lady. But who? He racked his brain. He probably drew it.

Hm. The painting was good, but the palette was a bit flat. Perhaps a pop of colour from some extra floral decorations could help.

A word at the bottom caught his attention:

_Céline_

Céline… He could barely remember her. Only her name, and her face, thanks to the painting. Empty words after empty words of promises of remembrance, only for the cycle to be repeated... Immortality was a dick.

"Ah yeah. She was a girlfriend of mine."


End file.
